


Caught in the Crossfire

by GrayscaleAtmosphere



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst, Danger, Established Relationship, F/M, Gangs, Gore, Help, Hurt/Comfort, Idk if i will make this a series or not yet?, Kinda, Mafia AU, Panic Attacks, Romance, Shit goes down, Suicidal Thoughts, Tell me what you think, and summaries, and tags, being targeted because your bf is in the mafia, im bad at titles, very briefly, you didnt sign up for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 18:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17606723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayscaleAtmosphere/pseuds/GrayscaleAtmosphere
Summary: When an unexpected and most definitely unwelcome gift arrives on your doorstep, you find yourself realizing the terrifying consequences of getting caught up in Jeon Jungkook and Bangtan.





	Caught in the Crossfire

You stare in absolute horror at the box on your doorstep, wrapped perfectly in beautiful paper with a silk bow tied around it. The ribbon is embroidered with blue roses— _their_ symbol—and a tag with _your_ name is tucked under it. Your blood runs cold, and you immediately jerk back inside your house, slamming your front door shut. Your feel yourself start to hyperventilate; your heart is racing, and your palms are becoming sweaty.

They know about you.

You reach for the curtains on your windows, but quickly think better of it and bring your face to your front door instead. The peephole reveals nothing out of the ordinary in its limited scope, but you don’t relax. You pause briefly, hand on your doorknob, and gather all your courage.

They know your _name_.

Carefully, you twist the knob and open your front door again. To both your dread and unsurprise, the package is still sitting in front of your door, mocking you. You nervously crane your neck out of your doorway and glance down both ends of your street. No one is on your street and you find no parked cars with suspiciously tinted windows. You quickly collect the box in your arms and back into your house, slamming the door shut again and hurriedly locking it.

They know where you _lived_.

Your empty residence suddenly feels like it has far too many windows. Your legs feel like lead as you bring the box upstairs to your bedroom and draw all your curtains shut. You set the box carefully on your bed and take a few steps back, staring at it as if looking away would cause whatever was inside to jump out and kill you. You still your breath and listen, but no sound comes from the box at all. You wish that you can just ignore it and throw it in the trash. You wish doing that would actually make this all go away.

How did they find you?

You glance at your cell phone on your dresser. A pink notification blinks up at you. Pink was the color you had assigned to him in your phone; your boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook. Your fingers twitch. You want so badly to pick up your phone and call him and tell him to come and rid you of this terrible nightmare, but you steel yourself.

No. You can’t. Not until you know exactly what you’re dealing with. Not until you know exactly what’s in that box.

You squeeze your eyes shut and clench your fists. You breathe in deeply through your nose and exhale through your lips.

You take a step forward. Unease washes over you.

Another.

One more.

Reaching the edge of your bed, you reach a shaky hand to an end of the ribbon and pull it off. Resting your hands on either side of the box lid, you take another breath, grit your teeth, and yank the lid off, peering inside.

A blood chilling scream rips itself from your throat as soon as your eyes fall on what’s inside. A detached head stares up at you with dead, milky eyes. His hair is matted with blood and dirt, and his tongue sticks slightly out of his hanging jaw, puffy and pointing to a trail of dried blood that led to his neck where his skin was ripped and ragged to reveal the rotting flesh underneath.

The box lid falls from your hands as you cover your mouth, tears instantly springing to your eyes. You stumble back and crumple to the floor. Your whole body shakes and all you can think of is the last time you saw the newest intern at your job who had always been so kind to you, bringing you coffee in the morning and treats when you were stressed, coming to you for relationship advice, accompanying you on those dreadful company dinners and even escorting you home when you had too much to drink. Now he was dead, brutally murdered and head packed in a box to be delivered to you while his loved ones probably had no idea.

Adrenaline swells within you and you bolt to your dresser, pull open the top drawer, and rifle through its contents until your hand meets the cold metal of a Glock 19. You’d never really touched it before—never needed to—but Jungkook had insisted you had something to protect yourself with _just in case,_ so he brought this home, took you to a shooting range, and taught you how to use it.

You switch the safety off and clutch it tightly in one hand. You grab your phone with the other to call Jungkook, but when you unlock your phone the text notification that lights up your screen breaks right through your panic, and you freeze instantly.

**_Have you been outside recently? The sky is clear and the sun is shining brightly today. -JK_ **

It’s the type of text you don’t receive often only because Jungkook thought it was best to keep you as separated from his work as possible, but sometimes he would communicate with you in little codes.

 _Have you been outside recently?_ He’s asking if you’re well. _The sky is clear._ Whatever his gang, Bangtan, had been working on lately was coming close to a score and he’ll be coming home soon. _The sun is shining brightly today._ He misses you.

 You slide down the wall next to your dresser and sink to the floor, locking your phone again and clutching it tightly. You sigh in despair; you can’t call him. If you do, then he’ll come for you and for all you know that’s what they want. Your eyes drift from the phone in your shaking hands to the lid of the gift box lying a few feet away. It had turned over in its fall, and neatly taped to the underside of the lid was a pretty, blue rose that matched the ribbon the box came tied with. The sight of it makes your skin crawl.

That symbol belongs to the Palinjang, a name you had seen in some files Jungkook had brought home one night. After plenty of reluctance, Jungkook told you they were Bangtan’s biggest problem recently; a newly formed group of criminals that were viciously trying to steal the underground empire Bangtan has created. Everyone has heard of Bangtan, but it’s Palinjang that has been all over the news lately. They’re ruthless and formidable too; just a few months ago when one of Jungkook’s partners wasn’t reporting back on a recon job, Jungkook found him in some back alley beat into a nearly unrecognizable, bloody mess with a blue rose tucked into his breast pocket. It was by the grace of God alone that Jimin survived that night. That incident was what made the name Palinjang mean anything in the criminal underworld, and that was just the start. Now they’re the subject of nearly every news story in the metro area.

This new gang wants to control the city and that means taking down the organization who currently does: Bangtan. There’s just one problem. Bangtan didn’t get where they were by dumb luck; they were dangerous and deadly and knew exactly what they were doing. If Palinjang was going to have any chance in taking them down they’d need a weakness, and in order to get that, they’d need information. It would be a cold day in hell before they got anyone in Bangtan to turn on their brothers—that much was made evident with Jimin—so it was clear that the next step would be close friends or loved ones.

That means you.

You hadn’t meant to fall in love with each other. People like him knew it was a bad idea to get involved with people like you, and you should have known better when you found out exactly what his “work” was. Yet when Jungkook came into your life he didn’t just walk in, he swept you completely off your feet and you’ve been caught in this dangerous, exhilarating, perfect whirlwind of a romance ever since. You never regretted getting caught up in Bangtan or Jeon Jungkook; not even when he came to your home bruised, bloody, drunk, or high off some job they pulled off that may or may not have included killing anyone (he never told you, but you knew).

Being with someone like Jungkook and having friends with people like Bangtan always made you feel so safe and, hell, even brave. Their confidence, ambition, and unwavering loyalty was contagious. At least, you thought it was. How simple of you. Bangtan, as much as they loved you and you loved them, was still a group of ruthless criminals. Of course, there was no such thing as “safe” when getting mixed up with them.

It’s funny how being faced with the promise of a long and painful death affects you.

Who knew what kind of torture these people would inflict on you until you gave them what they wanted? Even if you, unlikely as it is, managed to evade them, how many more people would die until they had you? They were playing with you now, you could only imagine what they’d do when they tired of the game.

You turn your eyes down to the phone that had fallen out of your grasp onto the floor, to the gun in your hands, then glance at the gift box still laying on your bed with its contents obstructed from your position on the floor. You scoff to yourself, feeling tears begin to well up again. There’s no way you’ll stand a chance.

Your eyes are locked on the gift box; even though you can’t see the head inside, the image is burned into your mind.

You don’t want to die like that—screaming and crying and painfully and _slowly._ You don’t want to betray Jungkook and his family before you are brutally murdered. You don’t want to be the reason for any more misery. You can’t let them get you.

You _can’t._

The feeling of cold metal against your temple nearly startles you. You didn’t notice your own hand bringing the gun to your head.

Immediately you feel claustrophobic. Your knees are pressed too tightly to your chest and your body is hot. You’re sweating. You can’t breathe.

You quickly get to your feet and in your haste, you catch sight of your reflection in your vanity mirror. You’re a complete mess. The blood had gone from your face, your hair is mussed and sticking to your skin, your trembling lips are clamped tightly between your teeth, and then you meet the mirror’s gaze.

Your eyes are totally wide, nothing but panic and fear in your eyes and the cruel barrel of a gun still pointing at your head. You can only bear the disturbing sight of yourself for a moment until tears start streaming down your face. You clench your eyes shut and sob. You feel your strength draining from your body, but before you can let your hand fall to your side the solid weight of another body suddenly collides into you, knocking your body to the ground and the gun out of your hands.

You shriek in horror at the impact as you fall underneath their weight. They got you. You were a coward and you hesitated, and they _got you._

Your bodies crash against the side of your bed, knocking the gift box to the ground. You scream again.

This is a terrible, horrific nightmare and you can’t escape. You’re going to be tortured for information, stripped of your dignity, and gruesomely killed.

The person above you hauls you fully onto the bed, pulling your arms roughly to your sides and pinning you against them with bruising force.

You wish you had called Jungkook. You don’t care anymore if it’s selfish, you just want to hear his voice.

“… the fuck are you doing?!” His voice sounds far away at first under the blood rushing in your ears. You don’t stop wriggling in panic; he only grabs you tighter. “Stop! (Name), stop!” He yells at you. You whimper and strain against his grip, craning your head back to look at him. He meets your eyes, looking both furious and terrified

“Jungkook…?” You breathe out in disbelief. Relief floods your being with overwhelming force and you collapse fully into Jungkook’s arms, wrapping your arms around him as tight as you could. You can’t speak, you can’t cry, you just hold onto him as both unbridled fear and insurmountable joy leaves you stunned. Jungkook holds you just as tight, afraid that if he lets go you’ll disappear. Just what the hell has gotten into you? Were you seriously about to kill yourself?

“(Name),” Jungkook calls softly after a moment and a shuddering breath. Now that he was reassured you were safe and sound, he had to get to the bottom of this. He pulls you away from him and holds you by your shoulders; his grip is firm and desperate. “Why?” He asks, looking into your eyes with an intense look. You hesitate briefly before averting your watery eyes in shame and fear. 

It was then that the world began to materialize back around the two of you. Jungkook’s gaze follows the tilt of your eyes to your bedroom floor, where he sees a box on its side and a decapitated head unceremoniously laying a few feet away from it. Instinctively Jungkook pulls you back to him and hides your face in his chest so you’re not looking at it anymore.

“(Name), what the fuck happened?” Jungkook demands, glaring hard at the gift box—or more specifically—its blue floral wrapping. How the fuck do they know about you? “I need you to tell me.” He says more gently after a moment of silence, trying to remain calm for your sake.

“T-there was a knock at the door…” You whisper, training your eyes on the expensive threading on Jungkook’s shirt that your wet eyelashes had left marks on and focusing on keeping your voice from breaking, “When I opened it, there was that box…I know it was _them_.” You say tightly, holding your breath for a moment in an effort to keep yourself together. Jungkook’s arms tighten around you. This shouldn’t have happened. He thought he had been so careful to make sure nothing about his work threatened your safety. So how the hell did this happen?

“I’m sorry.” He tenses underneath you as you say that, but all you can do is bury your head in his shoulder in shame. “I’m not—,” You feel tears building up when Jungkook starts stroking your hair to comfort you, “I’m not strong like you, Jungkook. I’m so pathetic… I just didn’t want to betray you and Bangtan. I was scared of what they’d do to me if they ever—.”

“They won’t get you.” Jungkook insists. You squeeze your eyes shut and push away to look at him. His eyes have a desperate look.

“They already have! Don’t you see? They could’ve done whatever they wanted to me today and there would have been nothing you or I could have done about it. They’re playing around like this is all some sick fucking game—.”

“Stop!” Jungkook interrupts you, jaw tight and hands grasping your wrists. He can’t stand to hear you talking like that. He hates it, but what he hates more is the fact that what you’re saying was true. He could have easily come home to find you either missing or—he doesn’t want to think about it—but instead the Palinjang opted for trying to scare you first, and it worked. But there’s no fucking way in hell he will let it go farther than that. “We’ll handle this, (Name), okay, babe?” He doesn’t really know if he was trying to reassure you or himself, “I swear I will fucking end them for doing this to you. We’ll crush them, okay, so don’t you ever let any god damn asshole bring you to putting a gun to your head ever again, do you understand?!”

Overwhelmed, all you can do is nod as tears fall from your eyes again. You look towards the box again, but before your eyes can land on it, Jungkook’s hand on your cheek stops you. Your lip trembles.

 “He was our new intern. His name was Hosung; he was so nice. He always brought me coffee and showed me pictures of his dogs and I helped him ask out a girl he really liked…” You ramble, sobbing. Jungkook leans forward and holds you while he flips the box over the head of your nice, new intern with his shoe. This is all his fault; none of it would have happened if he just stayed away from you back when you first met like he should have. He knew it was dangerous, but he was so confident he could keep you out of the crossfires if he was careful enough. How naïve of him to think such a thing.

 While you cry, Jungkook walks briskly about your room with a couple of your bags and packs as much of whatever he thought you might need as he can. You watch him numbly, having calmed down a bit from your hysterics, as he finally walks back over to you and helps you stand with his free arm wrapped securely around you. Jungkook escorts you out of your bedroom, making sure to pick up the Glock 19 on his way and tuck it into his belt. On your way out of your house, Jungkook tells you that he is sorry.

“I swear I’ll never let anything like this happen to you again, baby.”

You know he can’t really promise you something like that, but you feel comforted and loved and safe all the same now that he is with you. Jungkook kisses your hair softly as he continues to apologize; he’s so soft with you, but when you look at his face as he leads you into his car and buckles your seat belt, you see murderous rage in his clenched jaw and burning eyes. You can see his mind racing with plans of action. Jungkook gets into the driver’s seat and holds your hand tightly in his as he speeds out of your neighborhood.

You watch him drive in silence for a moment. You decide that you'll try to be strong like Jungkook.  “I love you.”

He brings your knuckles to his lips and squeezes your hand, rubbing his ring clad thumb along the back of your hand. He thinks in that moment of how brave you are to say such a thing after what loving him has put you through. “I love you too, baby.”

You smile a little and turn your head to the road in front of you. You don’t have to ask where the two of you are going, you already know.

This is just the beginning.

 

 


End file.
